


Nail In My Coffin

by ShowtheWorldtheThunder



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, The Walking Dead AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1902858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowtheWorldtheThunder/pseuds/ShowtheWorldtheThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every now and then, Patrick needed to get away. Take his iPod, phone, a few necessities, and just go out camping alone. His parents were always hesitant to let him go, but knew that their 17 year old was headstrong enough to make it on his own - and smart enough to get help if he needed it.</p><p>And when he returned, the world was always right there to take him back.</p><p>This time was different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wayfaring Stranger

" _I hold the line, the line of strength that pulls me through the fear..._ " Patrick sang quietly to himself, trekking through the woods.

Wearing his bright blue puffy vest, a white, worn Ziggy Stardust shirt, some stonewashed blue jeans, and toting a beige backpack with some basic necessities, he was incredibly thankful that this whole apocalypse thing decided to happen when he went camping.

Every now and then, he needed to get away. Take his iPod, phone, a few necessities, and just go out camping alone. His parents were always hesitant to let him go, but knew that their 17 year old was headstrong enough to make it on his own - and smart enough to get help if he needed it.

And when he returned, the world was always right there to take him back.

This time was different.

He'd spent about a week alone and was doing fine, until he ran out of food. His usual trek back to the convenience store was met with a deserted town and no clerk. Patrick felt unethical about stealing, even though the store was completely unguarded, so he made the three-mile walk to the next town over, and was met with a similar, unsettling lack of human life.

When he'd returned to the woods, he decided to break his rule of 'no communication', and took out his cell phone to text his Mom and ask her if she knew what was going on. The text was never answered, and so, perhaps a little worried, he texted a few friends. No responses from them either. The only contact he'd receive would be a pocket dial from his old classmate Tom, which was filled with blood-curling screams and snarls, followed by an eerie silence that gave Patrick nightmares for a little while.

He didn't know what'd happened to the world while he was gone. But he knew it must've been some kind of apocalypse. Either that, or everyone on the face of Planet Earth had collectively decided to ignore and terrify Patrick Stump.

Now, he was wandering aimlessly through the woods, wondering if he was the last person on Earth as he sang some of his Dad's favorite music to comfort himself.

This question was answered when he heard an odd snarling noise in between the verses of "Take Me With U".

"Hello?" He called out, looking around for the source of the noise.

A figure staggered out from behind a nearby tree, and Patrick jumped with surprise. It was the first human he'd seen in awhile, and he was desperate for any kind of social interaction.

"Hey, haha. You scared me! My, uh. My name's Patrick, and I've been noticing the weirdest thing, like everyone's just dropped off the face of the Earth or something. Have you, you know, seen anyone or...anything?" He babbled, obviously a lot more desperate than he'd thought.

The figure, now visible, was an older male, with absent gray eyes and ashen skin that made Patrick a little uneasy. The man didn't reply, but snapped his jaw a couple times with a sickening click, and started to stagger over toward Patrick.

"S-Sir?" Patrick stuttered, starting to step back. The man's clumsy movements reminded him of one of his and his Dad's favorite artists, Elvis Costello, and his bowlegged movements he'd frequently utilize onstage and in music videos. Patrick didn't know what to do, and he took the opportunity to joke around. "Haha, whoa, there, Costello, are you...are you okay?"

The man still didn't reply, and reached his arms out toward Patrick, hissing and snarling even louder. Patrick continued stepping back, until his heel connected with a tree root and tripped him. He fell flat on his back and whimpered, kind of terrified. _What was this man, some kind of zombie or something? There's no way in hell something like that could happen, right?_

In the time it took him to wonder all this, the man had found his way on top of Patrick, and he was pushing back with all his might as the man's teeth snapped and growled at him hungrily. Patrick could've sworn he heard movement, and groaned silently to himself as he struggled with the desperate, strong figure on top of him. _More of these freaks? Is this really how I'm gonna die? How fucking lame._

Patrick was growing tired, and pretty soon the man's mouth was getting a little too close to his shoulder for comfort. He shut his eyes and whimpered again, tears starting to form. He was babbling to try and get the guy off, but knew it was useless, and he was going to die at the hands of this cannibal...zombie... _whatever_ he was.

But, just as he'd accepted his fate, a loud bang startled Patrick, making him cry out as the man collapsed and bled out all over him, a large wound visible on the back of his head. "Oh, god, gross..." He muttered, shoving the guy off and scampering as far away as possible before curling in on himself as he cried.

"That's really no way to thank someone that just saved your fucking life, dude."

Patrick jumped again. _Was that a human voice?_ _That would explain the movement I heard_. He stayed curled in on himself, crying desperately, though whether it was from relief of another human or from the shock of the attack, he wasn't sure.

"Oh, hey, hey, wait a second. It's okay, kid, I'm sorry, look..."

Patrick felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up through wet, raw eyes to see a tan, tattooed arm attached to a...rather short body. His "savior", toting a pistol that smoked with the victory of its kill, looked young, with black hair that covered nearly half of his face, a snug, black Misfits shirt, tight, dark jeans, and big, soft brown eyes that only seemed to want to help him.

"Hey." The boy spoke, a smile forming on his wide, dark lips.

Patrick sniffled, returning a soft smile.

"H-Hey."


	2. Loose Bolts of a Complete Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the boys (with some badass Costello killing in between).

"Jesus, Wentz. Zombie apocalypse and you can't even keep your hands out of your fucking pants..." A voice muttered in a condescending tone behind Patrick's savior.

"Fuck off, Hurley. I just saved the dude's life, I'm not fucking doing anything." The boy explained, lifting an arm to flip the bird.

"Right, right. Whatever you say, Pete." A second voice laughed, and Patrick could almost hear the eyeroll in his tone.

_Wait. I know that voice._

"Joe??" Patrick said incredulously, looking over the shoulder of the boy in front of him.

The source of the voice, a scrawny-looking kid with short brown hair, wearing a tan Black Flag shirt and holey, ripped jeans, stared back with a similar disbelief. "Patrick? Holy shit!"

Desperately, Patrick tore away from his savior's grasp and ran into Joe's arms, perhaps a little too excited to see someone he knew.

"I never thought I'd see someone I knew ever again. Oh my god, Joe." Patrick cried out, tears nearly running again.

The two other boys looked at each other quizzically.

"You two know each other?" One asked, furling his eyebrows and adjusting his glasses.

"Yeah. Yeah, holy shit. We just met like, two months ago at a Barnes and Noble and we've been talking ever since. This dude knows so much about music, it's fucking amazing." Joe explained, giving Patrick a noogie and causing him to laugh and shove him away.

"Well, that's just fucking fantastic. Can we go back to the camp now?" The same boy asked, folding his arms.

"Sure, Mr. Grumpy Gills. Lead the way." Joe replied sarcastically, gesturing toward what Patrick assumed was the way to their campsite.

As the four boys all began the trek back, Patrick took the opportunity to ask for everybody's names.

"So, uh. I'm Patrick. And I know Joe...but what's your guys' names?" He muttered awkwardly.

"Pete." The black-haired boy answered a little too quickly, sticking out his arm for Patrick to shake.

"Nice to meet you." Patrick replied with a breathy laugh, letting Pete shake his hand vigorously. "Thanks for, uh. Saving my life and stuff."

"Don't mention it." Pete said with a wide grin, shyly scratching at the back of his head. "I loved what you called it, though. That was fucking hilarious. What'd you say, again?"

"Costello?"

"Yeah. That was fucking priceless. We just call 'em zombies, but that shit's hilarious."

"I didn't realize Elvis Costello was hilarious." Patrick shrugged, laughing awkwardly. "But, okay."

"We could call them Costellos, though. Makes 'em sound a little less menacing than zombies." Pete suggested, looking at the others for any sign of disapproval.

"Sure?" Patrick replied.

"Why not?" Joe said with a shrug.

"Yeah. Great. Now that we've named the fucking things, can we walk a little faster before we get swarmed by them?" The other boy responded rather coldly.

"Uh, I'm...I'm sorry--I didn't get your name?" Patrick asked, almost afraid the kid would lash out on him just for asking. With a ripped-up Metallica shirt, similarly torn khakis, tattoos running up his arms and legs like sleeves, and two swords--were those _katanas_?--crossed in an 'X' on his back, he looked like somebody not worth messing with.

"Andy."

"Right, uh. Nice to meet you."

"Yeah. You too." Andy said, not turning around and simply lifting his hand to wave hello before walking further ahead.

" _I don't like him,_ " Patrick whispered to Joe, leaning in close.

" _Don't worry, you will; h_ _e'll warm up to you. He just really likes to get shit done and not mess around too much, is all_." Joe explained under his breath in an assuring tone.

" _I'll take your word for it, I gue-_ "

Before Patrick could finish his sentence, he was cut off by the overwhelming sound of snarls and hisses. "Not again." He said, fear present in his tone.

A couple yards front of them, eleven zombies--er, Costellos--appeared through a thick underbrush off to the side.

"Shit." Pete cursed, taking out his handgun again and cocking it.

"No, Pete," Andy ordered, unsheathing his katanas and twirling them in his wrists. "I got this."

Pete raised his hands in surrender and laughed as Andy sprinted forward, slicing through each and every undead body like it was a second nature to him. As he started to walk away, one got back up, trying to get the jump on him, but Andy was ahead of it, simply sticking his arm back and impaling its head without even looking.

With his fingers, Andy carefully wiped the blood and guts from his blades before sheathing them and continuing ahead, motioning the others to follow. "Come on," He called, as if he hadn't just done the most badass thing ever. "Almost there."

Patrick leaned back over to Joe again.

" _I changed my mind_." He whispered with a laugh, and Joe laughed too and elbowed him.

" _Told you._ "

* * *

 

The camp, as it turned out, was simply a bunch of tents set up around a homemade fire pit. To Joe, Andy, and Pete, it was home, though, and Patrick didn't dare challenge the idea.

"So, we've only got three tents..." Joe said, trailing off as they all set their things down. "I dunno who you wanna sleep with, but I hope you're comfortable sleeping with someone else in general."

"I, uh. Have a tent of my own. But I abandoned it." Patrick said sheepishly, his face turning a subtle pink.

"Well, that helps a lot." Joe joked, chuckling a little bit. "You can sleep with whoever you want to. Or you could sleep outside, but I wouldn't recommend it."

Before Patrick could decide, Pete interjected. "He could sleep with me. I have the biggest tent."

"He does. We raided a store and he called dibs on the biggest one." Joe said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the largest of the three tents.

"Whaddya say, Pattycakes?" Pete asked, beaming.

Patrick winced. "First of all, don't call me that."

"Okay, Rickster."

"Or that."

"Sorry, Trick."

"That's...that one's okay, I guess."

Pete pumped his arm in his victory. "So, Trick. Bunk with me?"

Patrick looked to Joe for any reason not to, other than the obvious fact that Pete was probably a little crazy. Joe shrugged and gave him a look that said, 'Why not?'

"I guess." Patrick shrugged, and Pete immediately tackled him into a hug.

"You won't regret it, Trick, I promise. I don't really sleep much so I'll make sure you sleep safe and sound!" He assured, squeezing Patrick tightly...perhaps a little too tight, because Patrick was finding it hard to breathe.

As if Pete couldn't hear, Patrick looked over his shoulder to Joe and asked, " _How old_ is he, exactly?"

"22."

"I never would've guessed."

Pete laughed and squeezed him tightly again before finally letting go; Patrick actually had to catch his breath. "I promise I'm not crazy. I just get excited sometimes." He explained, smiling again, and Patrick couldn't be annoyed with a grin like that for too long.

"Bunkmates it is, then." Patrick sighed, taking his backpack off and sitting on one of the makeshift log-benches in front of the fire pit.

Andy emerged from his tent and looked up at the sky immediately. "We should probably be getting to bed." He suggested. "Maybe with Patrick we could finally fucking go somewhere instead of looking for food everyday and coming back here?"

"Later. We'll talk about it in the morning." Joe said dismissively, yawning and rubbing his eyes and walking into his tent before there could be any further say.

"Fine. In the morning. Night, everyone." Andy grumbled, and he, too, disappeared into his tent.

Pete wordlessly led Patrick into his tent, and pointed out the large space.

"So, I have a pretty big sleeping bag, so if you're cold you could, I dunno, sleep with me or something." Pete explained shyly. "O-Or you could just sleep over there. Use your backpack as a pillow or something, and we have some shitty-ass blankets. Your choice, I guess?"

"Uh, I...sorry, but...I think I'll just sleep over there tonight." Patrick replied sheepishly, running his hand through his hair nervously.

"Oh. Uh, okay. That's cool. So, uh. Blankets are here, and, uh. Yeah. Sleep well, and stuff." Pete muttered, tapping on a pile of thin blankets before crawling into his sleeping bag.

"Uh. Thanks. You, too...whenever you sleep." Patrick said with a shy, awkward grin, taking the blankets and his backpack and setting up a makeshift bed.

He didn't realize it until now, but he was absolutely exhausted, and almost immediately upon curling up in the blankets, his eyes were drooping.

"Night, Trick." Pete muttered, probably hearing a stillness and assuming Patrick was about to fall asleep.

"Yeah. Night, Pete." Patrick mumbled back, barely audible, and almost immediately, he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of what'll hopefully be a long series. I'll more than likely incorporate other fandoms in this too, only because it seems natural in a Walking Dead AU. Maybe let me know what you'd like to see in the comments? I don't have a laid-out plan for where I want this to go, exactly.


End file.
